


I Don't Mind / Little Fever

by squealingpeanut



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Short & Sweet, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squealingpeanut/pseuds/squealingpeanut
Summary: vignettes in which Mary is a) secretly very soft for Baxter and b) doesn't mind a little rain or a little fever.takes place during the movie.
Relationships: Phyllis Baxter/Mary Crawley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	I Don't Mind / Little Fever

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for hecateandhoney on tumblr <3

**_i._ **

The rain catches the team by surprise, they’re in the middle of putting up chairs when Baxter feels the first splashes of rain against the back of her neck. It takes mere moments for the light trickle to turn into a torrent and she looks up to see Anna and Lady Edith sprinting towards cover, as well as the rest of the group. Baxter watches them run across the lawn then looks back at the only tent left standing and it’s single occupant. At this point, her hair has begun to stick to her neck and forehead, her dress clinging to her uncomfortably. She stands a few moments more watching everyone flee to safety before turning and heading towards the open tent.

“Well, that was quite a surprise.” The occupant of the tent says.

“The rain?” Baxter asks, looking straight ahead.

There’s a moment of silence and then “You choosing me.” comes the soft answer. The lady’s maid had been distant for the last couple of days, she could blame it on their suddenly busy schedules but she knew it was more than that.

At this Baxter turns, eyes settling on the form of Lady Mary. Her fists clench and unclench at her sides “I’m not surprised in the slightest.” Because if she’s honest with herself, she knows she’d choose Mary no matter what.

Mary’s jaw is squared and it flexes as Baxter looks away from her. ** _Look at me_**. She wants to scream but takes a calming breath and a step closer to the other woman instead “Phyllis-”

“Your _husband_ -” Baxter cuts her off “Is due back at the end of next week, isn’t he? It’s been months, I’m sure you miss him terribly.”

Mary holds back a wince at how Baxter says ‘husband’, the way bitterness rolls off the lady’s maid’s tongue is so foreign it leaves Mary disoriented. “Yes, Henry is due back soon.” She bites the inside of her cheeks and looks off into the distance. After a while, she looks at the shivering woman beside her and something in her chest constricts “Phyllis, I-” _I’m sorry. I wish he wasn’t coming back. I wish you would look at me._ “I don’t think the rain is going to stop anytime soon”

Baxter exhales softly and she suddenly looks so defeated that it brings the sting of unshed tears to Mary’s eyes. “Maybe it’s for the best,” Baxter says and forces a smile, she wasn’t expecting things to last long, but she had been hoping for it.

Mary doesn’t want to agree but she does “Perhaps it is” She wants to take it back as soon as she says it.

The wind picks up around them and the cold rain pricks against both of their faces. Baxter’s lip quivers and she looks at Mary again, she was anything but a sore loser “Milady” her head bows slightly and she manages a final smile before turning to walk away.

“Wait!” Mary reaches out for her, hand closing around a delicate wrist “Please” she adds when Baxter tries to pull away. To her great relief, the maid stops, brown eyes locking with hers. They stare at one another, Baxter exposed to the rain once more and Mary still mostly shielded by the tent. Mary’s hand travels down until her fingers can lace with Baxter’s, just as they have so many times before “Stay.” she says, over the sound of the wind picking up and the rain thrumming against the top of the tent.

“It’s raining.” Baxter says in lieu of an answer “We’ll catch our deaths” she adds

“I don’t mind.” Is Mary’s reply.

“Don’t you?” She looks up, eyes motioning towards the tent that shields her from the icy rain.

“No, I don’t.” Mary shakes her head and steps out to weather the storm with her companion. The rain soaks through her clothes in an instant and chills her, but she doesn't care, if standing in the rain and catching her death is what it takes to keep Baxter at her side then that’s what she will do.

**_ii._ **

The Storm only worsens as the night goes on and Baxter listens as rain pelts against her single window. She's restless and unable to think of anything besides her earlier interaction with Mary.

_We’ll catch our deaths._ She hadn’t been talking about the rain.

_I don’t mind_.

Soft rapping against her door brings her out of her musing and before she can respond a familiar voice fills the room “Phyllis, are you awake?”

Baxter doesn't respond and opts instead to turn on her side. She hears the door close, followed by the dipping of the bed at her feet. “You shouldn’t be here.” The Lady's maid speaks into the darkness.

“I told myself that ten times before doing it anyway,” Mary says, slight humor in her voice.

Rain and thunder fill the silence between them. “I’ll go then.” Mary sighs when the silence becomes unbearable.

“No” the protest is barely above a whisper but it’s enough to get Mary to sit back down. Baxter shifts and sits up, hand blindly searching for the other woman “Stay.”

Mary is momentarily dizzy with relief. Baxter wants her to stay, just as she wanted Baxter to stay. All was not lost.

“We’ll catch our deaths,” Baxter says, again, a reminder.

“I don’t mind.” Mary crawls closer to the other woman

“Don’t you?” Baxter challenges.

“No, I don’t,” Mary says firmly before closing the distance between them. Warmth spreads through them both and they feel whole like this, in each other arms. Like this, they could weather any storm.

**_iii._ **

“Mother,” Mary cuts off her sister mid-sentence and addresses her mother “has your lady’s maid broken out of that little fever yet?” she carefully sips her tea.

“Mary,” Cora frowns “it’s not a little fever, it’s influenza” she corrects with a shake of the head.

“Have you tired of sharing Anna?” Edith asks with a scowl “We all know you’re not keen on sharing, but really Mary, this is serious, have a heart”.

Mary holds her teacup a little more firmly and glares at her sister “I know how serious it is” she sets her jaw and turns back to her mother “Has she?” She waits expectantly.

Cora sets her cup down “She’s not getting worse but she’s certainly not getting better”.

“She’s seen a Doctor, hasn’t she? Or is that man incapable of doing his job?” The disdain in her voice is clear.

“Baxter isn’t his only case, Mary, but she’ll be better in no time, don’t worry.”.

“I’m not worried.” She tries her hardest to keep her features schooled “Edith is right, I’m just tired of sharing Anna”, the lie is easy.

“In any case, the Doctor, Mrs. Patmore, and Mrs. Hughes are all trying to help her recover” Cora adds with a small, almost knowing, smile.

“They should try harder,” Mary mumbles into her tea.

_**iv.** _

Mary gently closes the door behind her and makes her way towards the trembling figure on the bed “ _oh_ -” she lets out a soft whine and creeps closer to the bed “Baxter…” she tentatively reaches out, her fingers ghosting along pasty skin. The woman on the bed stirs and Mary retracts her hand as if she’d been burned.

“Mary?” Baxter croaks out then groans

“Shhh”

Baxter shifts a bit to get a better look at the woman that stands before her “h-”

“stop-” she tries to hide the panic in her voice “stop moving,” she demands, eyeing the layers of heavy blankets that cover the other woman. She pulls them up to Baxter’s chin then tucks the sides in “there” she looks over and sees the lady’s maid has drifted back to sleep.

How odd, Mary thinks, to see someone who’s usually so full of, _everything_ , suddenly be full of nothing at all. She feels like Baxter is dying, how dramatic of her. Maybe it seems so drastic to her because she’s never seen Baxter so fragile, or perhaps she’s getting ill too. Whatever it is it makes her ache to rid the woman of this sickness. She reaches over and picks up a wet cloth front the nightstand “look at me, playing nurse” she shakes her head and dabs Baxter’s forehead.

Again, the woman stirs “you shouldn’t..” she coughs “be here…”

“There are a lot of things I ‘ _shouldn’t_ ’ do,” Mary puts the cloth back and tucks Baxter’s hair behind her ear “but I just can't help it” her voice is soft. “You’re not getting better.” She accuses

“I’m trying.”

Mary wants to scowl. How dare she say she’s trying in such a broken, helpless, voice?! It’s too much for her heart “Well try harder.” her voice is hard and demanding.

Baxter frowns and Mary looks away. She should apologize, she knows, but she can’t. She won’t apologize for wanting the other woman to feel better. “I miss you.” She says instead

Baxter’s smiles then, and it’s is so pure that she wants to kiss her, sickness be damned, but she resists.

“Me too” The lady’s maid closes her eyes “I’ll get better.” She promises and drifts back to sleep

And that’s all Mary needed.


End file.
